


Guardian Angel

by extravirginwriting



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Afterlife, DONT READ IF U HAVENT GOTTEN TO TROST, M/M, SPO IL ER S, fluff??, mayb??, please, some angst i guesss, sorta sad????, written for the sunfish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 19:30:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1659860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extravirginwriting/pseuds/extravirginwriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite Marco being dead, he'll always be there for Jean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guardian Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a friend of mine while coming home!  
> WARNING AGAIN: There's major spoilers, so unless you've finished the series, are past Trost, or have a tumblr, please click the lil x in your browser, it'll save you a lot.

Jean peeled away from the formation, charging directly at the titan. Anger surged through his veins, and clouded his judgment. Ignoring the protests from the other soldiers behind him, Jean continued on, determined to take it down. His calloused hands gripped the handles of his blades tightly, his amber eyes focused on the target. Nothing but the titan mattered. It had taken such precious things from him, he wanted the revenge.  
Nearly the second before Jean flew into the air, relying on superior 3DMG skills to save him, something grabbed him. His belts tugged him back tightly, pulling him forcefully off his horse. Jean tumbled to the ground, watching in shock as the animal was lifted up by a gigantic hand, and swallowed quickly. After a few moments knowing he was safe, Jean’s breathing calmed and he began to wonder who had saved him.  
Before Jean could even look around for his mystery savior, Armin had come next to him, trying to convince him to get up on his horse.

It was over the next few days that Jean really noticed that the universe was looking out for him.  
The day after he had been saved from certain death, Jean slipped on the stairs. A moment before he fell, something grabbed his shirt and pulled him back. He looked around again, searching for someone. He only saw Ymir, who was leaning against the wall, a good ten feet away, chatting with Krista. Jean huffed, thinking that maybe it was simply great balance on his part, and continued on his way to the cellar.  
Two days after nearly falling, Jean’s hand was nearly cut off. Levi had tasked him, Eren, Sasha, and Connie to prepare dinner. Jean was stuck with chopping carrots, but there was no complaint from him the entire time. Eren decided it was too quiet, with only the sound of boiling water and knives against the chopping board. He started to talk about Trost.  
Involuntarily, Jean’s eye twitched.  
Trost was a sore subject for everyone, particularly Jean. It was the battle in which he lost Marco, the battle in which everyone lost something. Eren didn’t seem to notice that Jean had become more malicious each time the knife was brought down, until Jean was holding it over his head, breathing heavily. He brought it down hard, discovering it was on a path to completely remove his right hand halfway down. Right before the sharp blade made contact with tan skin, the knife veered left on its own, and plunged into the cutting board instead.  
Afterwards, Connie solely praised Jean, and Eren kept his mouth shut.

Jean had no complaints that he had a guardian angel of some sort. However, he wanted to know who it was. He felt that it was Armin, finding it to be in his nature. Then he recalled the kitchen incident, and thought of it to be Connie, as the two were very close.  
A sweet voice came into his mind, matched with an even sweeter image. Jean could only daydream about the boy with large honey eyes, skin tanned by years working out in the fields, and full, kissable lips. He could nearly feel Marco’s warmth, he felt that his arms were wrapped around him tightly, their cheeks pressed against each other. It was like Marco was there, Jean could even feel warm breath against his cheek.  
He called himself delusional, like everyone else did, got up, and walked away from the sad angel, who was now wrapping himself up in his own wings, experiencing a melancholy that angels did not experience.  
That night, Jean noticed a small patch of freckles on his right cheek.

His existence continued, unlike the poor angel’s. Marco followed Jean everywhere, taking care of whatever he could. Sometimes, Jean would begin to hyperventilate. Tears would flow and the panic would not free him. It was then that Marco would press his head to Jean’s, transferring the fear and bad memories to him instead, and flood the crying soldier with reassuring comfort. At night, Jean would lie in bed for hours past lights out, whispering to Marco, asking him questions about his deceased family members, what the afterlife was like, and if humanity would ever beat the titans. Instead of answering questions, Marco built beautiful dreams for Jean. Ones of loved ones returned, a gorgeous heaven with more than enough food for everyone, and titans that fell long ago.  
The angel asked nothing of Jean, he never sent signs for Jean to do something for him. His favors went unreturned, and that was fine with Marco. It reassured him to see Jean peaceful, happy, and safe.  
Never once did Marco leave Jean’s side, particularly during battles. He’d take on someone else’s voice and direct him strategically, trying to guard him as best he could. If a titan attempted to grab Jean, Marco would pull Jean as far away as he possibly could, wings sometimes being able to lift the extra weight a little off the ground. He would shelter him for a bit, letting him recover from the shock under his white wings.  
Jean felt that Marco was there. He could sometimes feel Marco curled up against him at night, but never told anyone about it, in fear of being called mental. Instead, he would sigh softly, place a pillow where he felt Marco, and squeeze it the whole night long.  
Marco could feel Jean and his tight embrace. He would whisper reassurances in his ear, telling him to hold onto whatever hope he could. Jean would fall asleep to Marco’s soothing voice, though he didn’t know it was truly Marco.  
Night after night, Marco became more real, until Jean could catch glimpses of his legs being entwined with the dead boy’s, late in the night. He could see Marco asleep, mouth open a bit. During the day, sometimes, he’d see Marco’s shimmering wings, spread wide as he stared up at a titan. Once or twice, he would kiss Marco back if they were all alone.  
It was weird to everyone else. Mostly, it made them feel uncomfortable that Jean was able to continue a relationship with Marco, especially following his death.  
To Jean, it made him feel so much less alone.

**Author's Note:**

> If ya gotta tumblr, follow me? real-junkoenoshima.tumblr.com


End file.
